By Olusegun Adeniyi

Fading away like the stars of the morning,
Losing their light in the glorious sun-
Thus would we pass from the earth and its toiling,
Only remembered by what we have done.

Shall we be missed though by others succeeded,

Reaping the fields we in springtime have sown?

No, for the sowers may pass from their labors,

Only remembered by what they have done.

Only the truth that in life we have spoken,

Only the seed that on earth we have sown;

These shall pass onward when we are forgotten,

Fruits of the harvest and what we have done.

Pius Adebola Adesanmi had countless plans. Death was not one of them. Yet, shortly before he boarded what turned out to be his last flight in Addis Ababa on Sunday morning, he had the presence of mind and the alertness of spirit to surrender himself to the comfort offered in Psalm 139, verses 9 and 10: “If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me.”

As painful as his death may be, friends of Adesanmi must rejoice in the years we had him with us. After all, as President George Bush said in the wake of the 9/11 tragedy in the United States, “Grief and tragedy and hatred are only for a time. Goodness, remembrance and love have no end, and the Lord of life holds all who die and all who mourn.”

Adesanmi was a brilliant scholar committed to nurturing young minds, a Nigerian patriot regardless of the passport he held on his last trip, and above all, my friend. In recent years, we communicated almost daily and I have cherished memories of my last August visit to Ottawa, Canada, where he teaches. I will never forget the hospitality of his wife, Muyiwa during the four days I spent with them nor the experience of the ten-hour return road trip to Montreal to see my younger brother, Niyi, with our mutual friend and journalist, Tunde Asaju at the wheel. Asaju must remember those conversations about our country as we loftily sang along with Sikiru Ayinde Barrister and Kollington Ayinla, the two artistes whose music we listened to throughout the day.

I spoke to Asaju on Monday through Mrs Adesanmi’s mobile phone and I thank God for friends like him at a time like this. I called her on Sunday afternoon when I first heard that her husband might have been on the ill-fated flight. She confirmed that he was indeed on his way to Nairobi and had not been able to reach him. We prayed together, hoping against hope. With her at the time, I would later learn, were Wumi Asobiaro-Dada and her husband, Fela as well as Bayo and Mariama Aregbesola and a few other members of the Nigerian (and African) community in Ottawa who had gone to join her in the forlorn hope for a miracle. Not long after, the tragedy was confirmed on social media. Muyiwa is now left with memories of a loving husband and father. I will always remember a great friend who lived a short but impactful life.

Named the recipient of the prestigious Canada Bureau of International Education (CIBE) Leadership Award in September 2017, Adesanmi was until his death a professor of English Language and Literature at Carleton University, Canada and head of the university’s Institute of African Studies. A profound mind, Adesanmi earned a 1992 First Class Bachelor’s Degree in French from the University of Ilorin and a Master’s Degree (with distinction) in the same discipline from the University of Ibadan before bagging his doctorate, also in French Studies, from the University of British Columbia, Canada.

To understand the writings that earned Adesanmi renown at home and among Diaspora Nigerians, we can borrow from what the late American author, Brian Doyle wrote in “The Adventures of John Carson.” There is a story in everything, “and every being, and every moment, were we alert to catch it, were we ready with our tender nets; indeed, there are a hundred, a thousand stories, uncountable stories…”

Adesanmi looked for everyday stories to interpret the reality of our existence in Nigeria. He found lessons embedded in every experience, no matter how mundane. In the video clip now circulating on social media, Adesanmi used the story of the broken showerhead in a posh Abuja hotel in which he once lodged to drive home his point about how we accept mediocrity as a culture in Nigeria.

Adesanmi’s metaphor of the showerhead was not different from the late literary giant, Chinua Achebe’s May 1989 interview with Charles Rowell, where he told the story of the snake and toad to illustrate the tragedy of a nation held down for decades due to the celebration of mediocrity at all levels. What agitated Adesanmi is whether this society, or any society for that matter, can advance when the leadership appears unconcerned about what constitutes a good society and discounts the little things that matter.

I am happy that friends like Lola Shoneyin, Kadaria Ahmed and others are rising up in memory of Adesanmi. We will hear more about this in the coming days and weeks. However, as it happens when we lose cherished writers, quotes are being circulated without context. For example: “I write basically these days for the purposes of archaeology. A thousand years from now, archaeologists would be interested in how some people called Nigerians lived in the 20th and 21st centuries. If they dig and excavate, I am hoping that fragments of my writing survive to point them to the fact that not all of them accepted to live as slaves of the most irresponsible rulers of their era.”

While those were Adesanmi’s words in his column last Saturday titled ‘An Archaeology of Nigeria’, I do not want him to be misunderstood. Despite the frustrations that could be glimpsed from his writings, Adesanmi neither gave up on Nigeria nor surrendered to pessimism about a country he loved. He was planning to come back home when his term as Director of the Institute of African Studies ends in 2021 and had already identified a particular university where he believed he could make a difference. In fact, in recent conversations, he said he had the option to take the last year of his term as sabbatical with his full entitlements so he could return home soon.

Meanwhile, I was impressed yesterday as hundreds of Nigerians, including some political leaders who were at the wrong end of Adesanmi’s writings, gathered at the Unity Fountain in Abuja to honour his passage at an evening of tributes. Senate President Bukola Saraki, the Senator representing Kogi West where Adesanmi hailed from, Dino Melaye as well as Senators Shehu Sani and Babafemi Ojudu were all there. And so were Mr Babatunde Irukera, Mr Michael Oluwagbemi, Prof Jibrin Ibrahim (oga Jibo), Mr Ogaga Ifowodo and several important personalities in both the private and public sectors. The event was put together by people from the arts and civil society: Abdul Mahmud, Raphael Adebayo, Ariyo-Dare Atoye, Deji Adeyanju, Sam Amadi, Lady Florence, the irrepressible Aisha Yesufu and many other people who confessed they never met Adesanmi but were impacted by his writings.

At 47, Adesanmi was too young to die. But as the saying goes, “it’s not the years in your life that count; it’s the life in your years.” In the decades to come, as he rightly predicted, many will read his work. Adesanmi has earned that for himself. My hope, however, is that his writings will be read not as lamentation of what might have been but rather as testimony to a Nigeria that works. In the fullness of time, when we are all but fragments of history, future generations will appreciate Adesanmi who, in his refusal to submit to mediocrity, joined other compatriots to plant the seed of a new Nigeria.

May God comfort his mother, wife and the two daughters he left behind.